


Spooky Scoops Drabbles

by Redofthewolves, VigilantShadow



Series: Spooky Scoops [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redofthewolves/pseuds/Redofthewolves, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VigilantShadow/pseuds/VigilantShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for the reverse!verse in which Castiel is the Rightious Man, Gabe's addiction to sugar is being eclipsed by demon blood, and the angel nicknamed Dean is starting to hoard plaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trunk

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. So far, a lot of the prompts have lead to drabbles not relating to the canon plot, but that might change in the future. The drabbles, and other stuff for this verse, can be found at spooky-scoops.tumblr.com. You can even send prompts there! The world is truly beautiful.

If you were to open the trunk of the slightly-battered but well-loved ice cream truck in the parking lot, with the fading green paint and the green-and-purple logo identifying the truck as Spooky Scoops, you would be fairly surprised.

In reality, there was no trunk. The back doors opened to the serving area of the truck. Near the doors was the storage area, the area they referred to as the trunk. There were two freezers on either side of the truck, only one of which was ever kept on. One had extra gallons of ice cream, vanilla and chocolate, the ones that always sold out. In the other was extra cups and cones, along with some napkins. If you were to lift up false bottom, you’d find a cache of weapons: guns, knives, drivers’ licenses and at least two bags of salt, sitting beside one bag of sugar. Stuffed between one of the freezers and the serving counter was a sleeping bag and several blankets, for when there wasn’t a motel room to rent.

Only Cas and Gabe were the only ones that could even know how funny it was to be ice cream truckers moonlighting as hunters. At least it game them an excuse for why they traveled so much.

It made pretending to be FBI hard, though.


	2. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d been lifeless for hours that morning, before suddenly deciding Castiel and he needed to “actually work the truck today.” Castiel didn’t ask why. He could see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written while listening to Green Ghost from the Homestuck soundtrack.

Castiel’s eyes were heavy; it felt like he had been crying violently, or had stayed up too late at night. The apocalypse was over, as of yesterday, but it hadn’t entirely set in. Castiel still felt weighted down, like an anchor was still hooked onto his chest. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his jeans.

Gabriel was working the truck. He’d been lifeless for hours that morning, before suddenly deciding Castiel and he needed to “actually work the truck today.” Castiel didn’t ask why. He could see it.

He could see it in the small group of teens buying ice cream from the truck while Castiel sat on the curb smoking, a habit he thought he’d dropped before he’d sold his soul. He saw it in the way they playfully teased each other when one stumbled over his words ordering “Gabriel’s Super Dangerous Sugar Level Sundae.” He saw it in the black woman across the street, taking her roller skates out her car. And most of all, he saw it in Gabriel himself: his brother was happy. He had put on the little soda jerk hat he wore when he wanted to make people smile, and had borrowed one of the three bowties he and Cas shared. He laughed as he handed one tough-looking kid his ice cream, smiling smugly at his face when the kid realized he’d gotten a bonus scoop of some sort of pink ice cream full of rainbow sprinkles. Castiel huffed a laugh; there was no room for masculinity when you were ordering ice cream.

“You watching him?” Dean asked, pointing out towards the van. Castiel didn’t jump very far; he’d gotten used to Dean’s abrupt entrances, but he was surprised he didn’t at least hear his arrival.

Castiel turned, looking down to stomp out his cigarette. “He’s happy. Of course I am,” he croaked, taking another deep breath.

Dean nodded, and the two sat in silence for several minutes. “And you?” he asked, adding, “I mean, are you happy?”

Castiel turned to look around him, at his thrift store shoes, at the grocery store whose parking lot they were parked in, at the truck which still had some blood in the passenger’s seat that needed to be washed out, and finally at Dean. He paused for a long moment, before nodding, huffing out a breath through his nose.

“I am now.”


	3. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’know, I’ve never had ice cream,” he announced to the truck, mulling over the words in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little rushed, so I might clean it up later.

It was a lazy day for the three of them. They had spent the day driving across the 15, heading towards a ghost town in California that had started reporting actual ghost activity. Gabe had taken control of the radio, underscoring their drive through the Mojave Desert with the pop stylings of Ke$ha. Dean sat in the serving area on the bench opposite the window, his legs spread out and head tipped against the wall. Traffic was crawling that day: the warm summer weather inspired more trips to Vegas, and the three happened to get caught in a large crowd exodus from the party city.

Dean tapped his foot against the metal floor, clearly bored. They didn’t teach you everlasting patience in heaven, because there was always something happening. Now, sitting in an ice cream truck driving across a desert, he found he had less than originally thought. He eyed the steel cabinet in front of him, the glass cover condensating in the heat.

“Y’know, I’ve never had ice cream,” he announced to the truck, mulling over the words in his mouth. Castiel frowned, turning back from the passenger seat to see Dean better. Gabriel turned down the radio, coughing before replying, “You’re kidding me, right? We literally drive around in an ice cream truck, and you’ve never sampled the goods?”

Castiel’s eyes passed over Gabriel briefly, sure there was some sort of metaphor there, before turning back to Dean. “You could do so now, if you want.”

Dean shrugged, bracing his hand on the wall to stand up. He took a few steps over to the freezer, lifting the glass cover. “Yeah, alright, but does someone want to help me here?” he asked, trying to lift the lid on a gallon of strawberry.

Castiel pushed himself out of his seat, ignoring the look Gabriel flashed him. A few minutes later, both of them were situated back in their seats, Dean happily eating a small cup of vanilla. Dean laughed happily as he ate.

Gabriel laughed from the front seat, and Dean shot him a look in the rear-view mirror. “What?” he asked, spoon still partway in his mouth.

“You’re groaning,” Cas explained, turning back to look out the window. “If you don’t stop, Gabriel is going to mock you all the way to Yermo,” Cas informed, trying not to smile himself.


	4. Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not sick,” Dean continued to say whenever Castiel asked. It had been three days, and the new human’s fever would beg to differ.

“I’m not sick. Angels don’t get sick,” Dean swiped hastily at his nose and coughed, the rattling in his throat betraying the falsehood of his first statement. Castiel didn’t say what was on his mind, but it hovered unspoken in there air. Angels don’t get sick. But after catching him nodding off in an uncomfortable chair two days before, Cas wasn’t sure Dean still qualified.

“Just get in bed,” Castiel tried to be innocuous, comforting, but it just made Dean prickle. Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be pushed over to the bed and laid down with the covers up to his shoulder.

“I’m not sick,” Dean continued to say whenever Castiel asked. It had been three days, and the new human’s fever would beg to differ.

“Of course not, Dean.” Castiel said one Tuesday morning as he stepped back into the room with bags of food in hand. Gabriel muttered a “finally” and escaped out the door to investigate their current case. It was going far slower than it had any right to, since one of the brothers had to watch Dean and make sure he didn’t die. Or try and prove he was healthy by doing something stupid. Or both. Castiel handed Dean a cup of soup from the diner and the former angel scowled at it.  

“How do humans even deal with this shit?” Dean muttered to himself as he stared forlornly at the noodles in the broth.

“Usually our immune systems have been strengthened enough by adulthood that we don’t get this sick. I think being possessed by an angel probably ruined your vessel’s resistance. It’s not like he needed it.” Castiel patted Dean on the shoulder as he grumbled and began eating his own food. Dean continued to sulk, picking at his soup unenthusiastically. Then he took a bite. He brightened. Castiel knew that expression. It was the one Dean always wore when he discovered something he liked, and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief as the former angel ate without complaint.

 


	5. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean,” He said, slightly louder, “My name is Dean.” He smiled, watching the way it pulled at the skin around his eyes.

When he first met the Bennetts, Decanusel had cringed at the easiness with which they bastardized his name. He understood, eventually, that they meant nothing by it. For a human, nicknames were a sign of affection. But for an angel, whose name was a sign of his oath to God and his purpose in life, a shortened name was a sign of a failure to uphold those things.

As he began to make his own decisions, to side with the humans, he stopped minding when Gabriel and Castiel called him Dean. He had a new purpose and, he thought, maybe that new name could represent that. In his head, however, he was still Decanusel. He was still an angel, under the layers of human sentiment he was learning and the new affections he felt for Castiel.

One night after he fell, Decanusel stared in the mirror. It was midnight, after the brothers had already fallen asleep - Gabriel sprawled on his bed and Castiel leaving enough space for Decanusel to come back and lie beside him. He could not sleep, however, body unused to consciously bringing about the rest he now needed.

Instead he stood, wearing only socks and boxer shorts, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes were green, squinting in the dim light of the bathroom and shadowed over by circles. He placed a hand on the glass. Before, every time he saw himself in the mirror he could see himself, his true self, moving behind the vessel’s skin. Wings had risen behind his back, eyes and tails and hands moving and straining to be free of mortal bindings. Now, there are only two arms, two legs, a single mouth and a pair of eyes. There was nothing underneath the surface now, just a man made of flesh and blood. Not Decanusel. Not an Angel of the Lord.

“Dean.” Decanusel whispered, tasting the name on his tongue. It was short, blunt, like him.

“Dean,” He said, slightly louder, “My name is Dean.” He smiled, watching the way it pulled at the skin around his eyes. Dean Bennett. It took away God’s ownership of him, but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. He wasn’t sure he wanted God to have claim to him anymore.

Dean turned off the light and tiptoed back into the bedroom, slipping into bed beside Castiel, who shifted and awoke.

“You alright?” The hunter murmured sleepily, and Dean slung an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Goodnight Dean,” Cas whispered. Dean smiled into Cas neck, invisible in the dark.

 


	6. Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first, the demon blood slid down his throat like oil, and he gagged, spending the whole night coughing it up into the toilet while Kali whispered about how he couldn't let other people down like he had her.

Gabriel tried to move on after Cas died. He really did. But giving small children sugar highs just didn’t hold the same appeal when he thought of his baby brother torn apart by Hellhounds, and no amount of hunting relieved the itch his nightmares left under his skin.

Gemma came to him after a few weeks, wearing a new and very familiar face. She smiled at him, punched him across the face, and told him frankly that she had not been truthful about her identity. She asked him if he liked her new vessel, and he said it looked too much like a girl he'd killed for him to be totally comfortable with it. The grin was back, as she said of course, that was the idea. She told him, then, as she sat on his chest and ran a delicate finger up his cheek, that she  _was_ that girl, she  _was_ the dearly departed Kali Bhattacharyya, back from the fires of Hell. That he was lucky she liked humanity so much, because it had caused her to reject a very tempting offer to destroy his life. Instead, she said, I'm here to help you tear Hell apart. Something had sounded off about that, had rung hollow and false in his ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to care when she was warm and present and willing to tell him exactly how much he had failed. Kali was never afraid to tell him when she hated him, not even while she was still human.

At first, the demon blood slid down his throat like oil, and he gagged, spending the whole night coughing it up into the toilet while Kali whispered about how he couldn’t let other people down like he had her. The next day he steeled himself and kept the uncomfortably warm  liquid down, despite how it stuck in his throat, drying hemoglobin syrup. Within the hour he felt it bubbling up in his veins and he was able to force a demon from its vessel for the first time. It screamed, and if he unfocused his eyes enough he could pretend it was the yellow-eyed freak who held him down, bled into his mouth and sent him down this path at the age of four.

By the next week it had taken the place of sugar, sweets tasting dull and bitter on his tongue in comparison. He moved the candy from the glove compartment to the trunk, and then lost track of it in some dead end hotel room. Kali had laughed out a “finally,” whispering that she’d always hated the way his breath tasted, that this was so much better. The blood stopped making him choke, and the high paradoxically got better as he grew more accustomed to it. It started making its way into his daily life, his vision getting fuzzy and his fingers shaking unless he found a demon to drink every night.

That was when Lucifer came. Kali introduced him as a potential ally, but Gabriel hardly heard it, halfway into his nightly roller coaster ride of psuedo-vampirism on some poor shmuck wearing a soccer mom, so he just flashed a slightly giddy smile and continued. The next night it was just Gabriel and him, and the two became acquainted in between exorcisms and pleas on the part of his lab rat.

Lucifer was dark and hard-edged like Kali, but Gabriel had never let him down. With Lucifer, there was no reason to feel guilty, and so they tore into each other with all the fire he had with Kali before he burned up. Gabriel hated Lucifer, and Lucifer hated him back, and Kali watched them both from the shadows and smiled sharply and called them “her boys”, but always in a way that told them she would snap their necks if they upset her. They were under no illusions that she wasn’t the top of their little food chain.

Gabriel didn’t care; she’d given him a purpose, just like she had last time he’d lost Castiel.


	7. Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dirt was parched and dusty beneath their feet, the air equally void of moisture in the typical manner of a Southwest summer day.

The dirt was parched and dusty beneath their feet, the air equally void of moisture in the typical manner of a Southwest summer day. The two brothers were in their suits, Cas staring down the Greenlee County sheriff until the man let out a visible shiver and turned to Gabriel for assistance. The older Bennett was not much friendlier, giving the man a dry smile and rolling his shoulders. He was about six inches shorter than the cop, but his back was ramrod straight and his eyes had something threatening behind them. The sheriff twitched.

“I told you everything I knew about those murders.”

“So why did we find these in your cruiser?” Castiel pulled a hex bag, found in one of the victim’s homes, from his jacket pocket, tilting his head ever so slightly. In less than a second, the man was off running. 

“Told you to wait until Dean got here,” Gabriel grumbled and took off sprinting. Castiel sighed and followed, more slowly, taking a leisurely pace until he caught up to his older brother. The hunter was seated on top of the cop-turned-witch, looking distinctly upset at having had to do so much physical activity at once. Castiel pulled the anti-witch spell from his jacket and Gabriel stood, kicking the man in the head to keep him down. Cas said a few words and lit the spell, throwing it at the sheriff. He went up with a scream, flames crackling like dry kindling.

“Next time you get to do the running, Cassie,” Gabriel stuck a sucker in his mouth cantankerously. Castiel tilted his head to the side and began walking back to the truck.

 


	8. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel had the sudden, ludicrous thought that, if he had to be killed by Satan, it might as well be inside a giant disco ball.

 

Gabriel woke up, his head foggy and eyes blurred, and instantly knew he was still in a dream. He was in a room lined with tiny mirrors, a dim blue light emanating from no clear source.

 

“Hello, Gabriel,” The voice was light and airy, and then the dim light was gone. In its place was a shining brilliance in the shape of a woman, reflecting off the glass and dazzling his eyes. When he squinted, he could make out her features, a rounded chin and rosy cheeks and long brown hair. She smiled at him widely.

 

“Wow, a dream psychologist would have a field day with this,” He groaned and looked away. It didn’t help.

 

“This is a dream, yes, but I’m very real,” Another smile, and wings of shadow flashed out behind her. Oh.

 

“Eve.”

 

“You’ve got it, sugar,” She tossed her hair, sauntering up to him with ethereal grace and running a hand up his shoulder.

 

“And you want me to say yes, I take it?” The light dimmed and shifted, shadows in the room returning; Gabriel had the sudden, ludicrous thought that, if he had to be killed by Satan, it might as well be inside a giant disco ball.

 

“Two for two.”

 

“No.”

 

“I thought you’d say that. But I encourage you to reconsider,” The glow flared up again, even beyond its previous shine, and beyond the sudden pain he felt warm liquid trickle down from his eye sockets. The light touch on his arm grew vicious, digging into his skin and scratching at the bone.

 

“You really think pain is,” Gabriel let out a stuttering breath, “Enough to make me change my mind?”

 

“Your little brother broke after seventy years in Hell. And you’re nowhere near as strong as he is,” Her voice got soft, sweet, almost comforting, “Don’t worry, I know how it feels, being a disappointment to your family. What do you have to stay for? Your brother thinks you’re a monster. He’ll never say it, but he does. Your father was always so very disappointed in you. And Decanusel?” She pulled him close, smiling, “He’s always hated you.”

 

Gabriel tried to say something, but she put a hand over his mouth, “You’ve made their lives so painful. But if you say yes, then the world ends. Your brother can go to Heaven, be happy, with that angel of his. Everyone who deserves it will be happy. Because of you. You can save everyone, Gabriel. You can be a hero.”

 

He honestly considered it. Castiel had had a hard life, and he didn’t deserve it. If he could go to Heaven…

 

But…

 

“They don’t want that,” His voice was weak, breathy, “Cas deserves Heaven, but he doesn’t want to die. He’d be miserable, thinking he helped destroy the world. And besides,” He smiled through bloodstained teeth, “I like this shitty place.”

 

Eve stepped back, scowling.

 

“Fine,” She hissed, and the world exploded into noise and light, “But I’ll be back.”

 

Gabriel awoke in a shitty motel bed, gasping and staring up at the ceiling.

 

“You alright?” Dean asked from his seat atop the room’s only table. Gabriel sat up and shook his head. Dean jumped down and reached into his pocket, pulling something out and offering it to the hunter.

 

“A sucker?”

 

“You gave it to me last week.  I was kind of a dick about it,” The angel had still been a bit sore over the whole “releasing the devil thing,” and had only accepted the candy because Castiel had looked at him disapprovingly, “Sorry about that.”

 

“I started the Apocalypse,” Gabriel shrugged, “I think I deserved it.”

 

“You didn’t know.”

 

“Still,” Decanusel’s always hated you. Gabriel fiddled with the candy. It was silent for a minute, “I appreciate the sentiment, though. I know you’ve never liked me much.”

 

“Where did you get that idea?”

 

“The first time you met me you called me demon spawn.”

 

“Come on, I was an asshole back then.”

 

“And you’re always prickly around me.”

 

“Am not,” Dean winced when he realized how petulant that sounded, “Look, I don’t dislike you. I’m sorry if I seemed like I did,” The angel looked uncomfortable, “You’re…”

 

“What?”

 

“Kind of one of my only friends,” Dean stammered. Gabriel blinked.

 

“Oh,” He muttered, then abruptly popped the sucker into his mouth to prevent himself from saying something stupid.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, shoulders huddling slightly. It was then that Castiel woke, sitting up and blinking at the two of them.

 

“What were you two talking about?” The younger Bennett asked.

 

“Nothing,” Dean jumped down from the table.

 

“Yeah, nothing.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes,” They both said at once.

 


	9. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In his mind, he deserved a whole year of pain for each person he had mutilated in Hell, every person he had sliced and tortured.

 

“You should really stop doing this, man,” Dean said from the darkness of the corner. Castiel didn’t even flinch, staring down at the hamburger he was still holding. It was 4 AM, and the hotel parking lot wasn’t much warmer than the room they had rented.

“I didn’t know angels also acted as intervention squads,” Cas shot back, setting the burger beside him on the curb. It had been Gabriel’s, but Gabe had taken the truck out for the night, and fell asleep before he could eat.

The hamburger was his reward. The nightmares were fewer by the month, but they were still there, still tearing him apart from the inside. He didn’t fear them anymore. They were his punishment. In his mind, he deserved a whole year of pain for each person he had mutilated in Hell, every person he had sliced and tortured. The sad part was he couldn’t even get to sleep anymore, his body rejecting his due punishment like a bitter pill. He couldn’t sleep, and now he was out on the curb of a shitty motel eating stone cold diner food.

Dean looked out at the lamplights along the street, taking a few moments to collect his next words. “Look, you know life’s going to be hard for the next stretch, right?”

Cas frowned, turning to Dean. “I don’t understa-”

“No, just listen. It’s going to be hard, and it’s going to suck. It’s gonna be punishment enough trying to do this shit without wanting to see the Drive-In House Of Horrors in your head every night. So I’m suggesting you do this: move on. You’re not going to do much shit sitting on a sidewalk musing over how much you deserved to get your ass spanked. So you’re going to get up, walk back in that hotel room, and try to count sheep or hunt sheep or whatever you humans do.”

Cas watched him throughout his speech, his eyes squinting. When Dean was done, Cas picked up his sandwich, and stood to face the angel. “I’m going to go back inside, but not because you told me to. I don’t always have to obey every order from up on high,” he clarified, turning to the door and fishing out his keys. Castiel paused with the keys in the lock. 

“Thank you, however, for managing to show you care for the apes down here,” he ended quietly. 

Dean wouldn’t admit to smiling before he flew away. Mostly because he don’t know why he did. The smiling, not the flying.

 


	10. Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shook his head, running a hand through Cas’ hair and closing his eyes as a deep shudder ran through him, “Nah, I’m good. C’mon. Deflower me or whatever.”

Dean knew parts of being human were not going to be a shitfest. Drinking had always looked fun, amusement parks made people smile, and music seemed to make people relax and have fun. But no one told him how good sex was going to be.

Not that he knew quite just yet. Castiel was being a cocktease, literally. He was on his knees before Dean, stroking a hand up his ribs as he kissed his stomach. His chin brushed against Dean’s erection, and his hand tightened in Cas’ hair, a groan bubbling in his throat in complaint. This wasn’t fair. His first experience in his own sexuality, and Cas was denying him it.

Castiel planted a kiss on his stomach, lifting his head to examine Dean. “It’s not becoming too much for you, is it?” he asked, real concern on his tongue.

Dean shook his head, running a hand through Cas’ hair and closing his eyes as a deep shudder ran through him, “Nah, I’m good. C’mon. Deflower me or whatever.”

Cas huffed against his belt, undoing it and letting the leather fall to the floor. “I’d make a comment about being impatient, but I’m as eager as you are,” Cas replied, unzipping Dean’s jeans and sliding them to the floor. 

Cas then paused, frowning as he sat back on his heels. Dean whined, opening his eyes to see. “Something wrong down there?” Dean asked, bending his knees to rest against the wall. This wasn’t the time to study Dean like bacteria in a petri dish. 

“Dean,” Castiel asked, speaking very slowly to make his point clear, “have you ever changed clothes?”

He thought for a moment, still panting slightly, before shaking his head. “Nah, I’m an angel. Got no need for that,” he shrugged, reaching down to palm himself through his underwear. Castiel eyes widened, sucking in a breathe, before he blinked a few times to collect himself. Dean frowned; the whole experience was starting to piss him off. He’s got a dick, Cas wants his dick, he wants Cas to want his dick. What’s the problem? “Dude, if there’s a fucking problem, you might want to tell the council now,” Dean snapped, bending over to pull his pants back up. 

Castiel caught his face then, rising from his knees to push Dean against the wall. He grabbed both the ex-angel’s hands, dragging them over his head and pinning them there, using the rest of his body to hold Dean down. He attacked Dean’s mouth, leaving Dean’s head spinning from the speed and ferocity. Cas pulled back finally, letting one of Dean’s hands go to palm Dean through his tight, pink, satiny panties.

“No, Dean. There is definitely not a problem here.”


	11. Flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m pleased you're adjusting so well, but are you trying to flood the hotel room?” Castiel asked, barely keeping his irritation in check.

Castiel was trying to make the most of a bad week. A troll hunt had left him, his brother, and the angel strung out, and Castiel had offered to get everyone’s favorites for dinner.

Unfortunately, this meant using Gabe’s iPhone maps to trek around to a grocery store, a pizzeria, and a diner on the outskirts of Portland, Maine. It took a good part of an hour and a half, but it would be worth it to improve Gabe and Dean’s moods with their favorite things. Cas was sure of this. Until he got back to a wet carpet.

The water had just begun to seep under the bathroom floor, and Cas could hear the water still running. Dean wasn’t even paying attention. He had Gabe’s computer out, and was apparently watching some sort of anime.

“Dean,” Castiel asked slowly, setting the food on the table, “What are you doing?”

“Watching stuff on the internet,” Dean answered quietly. He paused his video, looking at Cas finally. “I was trying to do research, and I ended up watching,” he turned back to the screen to check the name, “Genesis of... Aquarion? Japanese isn’t my strong suit.” Dean shrugged, going to play his video again before Cas’s grasp on his wrist could stop him.

“I’m pleased you're adjusting so well, but are you trying to flood the hotel room?” Castiel asked, barely keeping his irritation in check. Dean frowned, jerking his wrist away and leaning away from Cas.

“Uh, wanna explain what you’re talking about?” he asked, parroting Cas’ frustration.

Cas clenched his jaw, heading toward the growing puddle. He nudged the door open with his foot, revealing the seafoam green bathroom. Steam had clouded the mirror, and the shower curtain was pushed to one side, the spout of the bathtub flowing into the already-full bathtub. Cas stepped carefully through the huge puddle covering the floor tiles, and shut off the water. Underscoring the last few drops from the faucet was Dean as he cussed, getting up to join Castiel.

“Shit, is it broken or something?” Dean asked, standing just outside the doorway. He looked apologetic, rubbing the back of his neck.

Cas turned, about to growl a response, before Dean’s words registered. “Wait, did you just say broken?” he asked, already reaching for a towel to clean the water up.

Dean frowned, leaning against the door jam to watch Cas clean his mess. “Uh, yeah. Why didn’t the tub stop when it was full?”

Castiel had to take a full ten seconds to stand up straight, wipe his hands off, and examined Dean’s face for signs of sarcasm. There weren’t any.

“What, do I have shit on my face or something? Did I- oh, wait... I was wrong, was-?”

The sound of the door shutting caught their attention, and the two turned in time to see Gabe about to dig into the bag of food. He stopped when he heard the conversation stop. “Hi-ho, Kermit and Miss Piggy,” he joked, waving, “Trouble backstage at the Muppets Show?”

“Which one of us-” Castiel started, before stopping himself. There was nothing but mockery down that road. Instead, he lifted up the sopping towel in explanation. “Dean thought bathtubs automatically stopped when filled.”

“You know, at this point I should really not be surprised by your antics, E.T.,” Gabriel laughed, starting to pull out the food. Castiel picked up a fresh towel, and with a pointed look at Dean, handed it over and left to help Gabe.


	12. Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels, contrary to what Cas and Gabriel seemed to think, were not averse to physical affection.

Decanusel was fairly sure Castiel was delirious. The man had been blinking blearily ever since Decanusel had smote the witch they were hunting, seated unsteadily on one of the graveyard’s many tombstones as though his bones were weighted with lead. The angel hoped Gabriel would arrive soon: his attempts to fix whatever spell work had been laid on Cas had all failed. 

“You know, Gabriel, we’ve never talked about you running away,” Castiel slurred. Decanusel propped him up when he began to slump off of his seat. 

“I’m not your brother,” Dean sighed, shifting uncomfortably. 

“It was very traumatic for me, you know,” Castiel continued as though Dean had said nothing, “Father was upset. You know how he was when he got upset.” 

“No I don’t, Cas. Can we, uh, not do this right now?” Castiel sat back up, and stared at him with bright-blue eyes. For a second, Decanusel hoped the hunter had regained lucidity. 

“I love you,” Castiel said, very seriously, and enveloped Decanusel in a strong embrace. 

Angels, contrary to what Cas and Gabriel seemed to think, were not averse to physical affection. Granted, the sort the two brothers favored - casual bumps of the shoulder, a squeeze of the arm, the rare embrace after a near death experience - was foreign to him. But in Heaven, in the Garrison, Decanusel’s brothers and sisters never hesitated to reach out with tendrils of seeking Grace and entwine it with his. That had changed since the Righteous man had risen from Hell, the pressures of war overtaking little self indulgences. His Grace would sometimes reach out toward the Bennett’s souls, missing the touch. Before he reached them, however he would remember they were human and recoil, not wanting to -as Castiel put it - invade their personal spaces. 

Actually, Decanusel mused as Castiel patted him firmly on the back, maybe he didn’t understand the whole physical affection thing. Not the way humans did it, anyway. 

“You’re really lucky I don’t need to breath,” He said, his voice wheezing slightly due to the lack of air in his lungs, “And I’m still not Gabriel.” 

“Shh,” Cas loosened his grip slightly, but continued to be utterly ridiculous. They were still sitting together ten minutes later when Gabriel arrived, Castiel’s arm’s encircling Decanusel’s ribcage and the angel’s hands resting awkwardly on the human’s shoulder blades. 

“Wow, I guess the Apocalypse is off then. Hell has officially frozen over,” The older Bennett smirked, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of the truck. Decanusel gave him a look, as if to say ‘help me’. Gabriel’s smile only got wider, and he made no move to be at all useful.

“He thinks I’m you,” Decanusel said, through gritted teeth.

“No I don’t,” Castiel mumbled into the angel’s jacket. Decanusel blinked.

“You’re, uh, what’s the phrase? Off your rocker. Yeah. You’re off your rocker, Cas. I’m sure we’ll have a laugh about this in the morning, when you’ve stopped hallucinating that I’m you’re idiot brother.”

“Hey!”

“You’re like family to me, Dean. And I love you,” Castiel nodded once, agreeing with himself, and promptly fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that Spooky Scoops also has a tumblr! If you have any prompts that you want to see written with these characters, please send us an ask at spooky-scoops.tumblr.com.


	13. Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You shouldn’t be concerned with him. He’s an abomination. His descent into darkness was written.”

Decanusel was sitting, watching Castiel and Gabriel argue about the merits of Dumbledore versus Gandalf, respectively.

 _Decanusel, we need to talk. Come to my office._ Decanusel frowned, reluctant to leave before he could inquire as to what, exactly, the two brothers were talking about. Crowley repeated the request, louder, the soft whisper in the back of Decanusel’s skull becoming an impatient yell in his ear. With a frustrated exhalation of breath, the angel took flight.

“Yes, Crowley?” Decanusel didn’t sound as polite as he should have, given Crowley’s rank, but he frankly didn’t care. He’d never liked Crowley. The higher angel had always preached about the importance of doing one’s duties and avoiding the pitfalls of free will, but he didn’t seem to hold himself to that standard, even giving himself a name other than the one bestowed on him by their Father. The subtle treason of it was enough to make Decanusel’s grace twist with disgust, but if he voiced his doubts out loud that would make him just as disloyal. If not in reality, at least in the eyes of his family. Which was essentially the same thing, really.

“You’ve been getting restless around the Bennett’s the past few days. Might I ask why?”

“I,” Decanusel contemplated feigning confusion. It would probably be in his best interests. But what Crowley said was the truth, and the lower-ranking angel clung to the hope that his superior would have answers, “I was just...wondering why I have to keep silent about Gabriel’s, uh, untoward activities with the demons.” The older Bennett had been slipping away more and more often, nearly every night, and he always came back with his soul just a little more covered in darkness. Crowley smiled widely.

“You shouldn’t be concerned with him. He’s an abomination. His descent into darkness was written.”

“But it doesn’t have to be!” Gabriel was a pain in the ass, but he cared about his family, and indeed the rest of humanity. His indulgences in demon blood began because of his sorrow over Castiel’s loss, but its continuation after he got his brother back was at least partially because he believed he could stop the Apocalypse. Decanusel wondered if he was capable of that sort of self-sacrifice.

He cleared his head of those musings, and found Crowley staring at him with a false look of concern.

“Are you doubting prophecy?”

“No! I just-”

“You just think you know better than God.”

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you questioning the scripture?” Crowley let out a soft sigh and, looking almost kind, continued, “You can’t do that, Decanusel.”

Decanusel looked down, “I know,” He might have hated Crowley, but to question Father? That would mean going down a path he wasn’t prepared to consider.

“Father wrote a script for mankind, and we are simply ensuring that the players know their lines. Don’t worry, Gabriel will go to Heaven when this is done, despite his transgressions. It will be better for everyone.”

Decanusel wanted to argue, but Crowley’s expression left no room for argument.

“Of course,” He thought for a moment, and then spat out, “Sir.”

“Good. Now get back to the boys before they do something monumentally stupid,” Crowley tilted his head to the side, “But be careful. If you continue having these...questions...we might have to bring you in for re-education. For your own good, of course. “

Decanusel left as quickly as he could.

 


	14. Bookshelf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck had once joked that, if he wrote a book about the Bennett boys, he could start a successful franchise.

In the back of Chuck’s house, in the room that used to belong to his father, rested a bookshelf. The floor around it was covered in an inch of dust, as was much of the young man’s house, save for a line of footprints up to the piece of furniture. The bookshelf was nearly empty. There was only one row of books, all nice leather-bound journals of various ages.

The Bennetts knew nothing of the bookshelf. Not that it existed, and certainly not that each and every page on it was covered in Chucks messy scrawl. Michael Bennett had kept a journal as well, but he’d been a strict professional about it. Nothing aside from lore and hunts made it into that book, all mentions of his boys and personal struggles deleted. Chuck kept the records of his hunting experiences in the library, mixed in with the ancient tomes.

Chuck had once joked that, if he wrote a book about the Bennett boys, he could start a successful franchise. What they didn’t know was that the books were already written, meticulously dusted and put back in their places, spines all perfectly lined up. But he wouldn’t publish them. He’d keep them close to him, away from anyone who might misuse them, and then pass them on to whoever took his place doing...whatever it was he did. The Bennetts deserved to be remembered for what they were, not only as hunters, but as men.

 


	15. Trumpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gabriel, we need to talk about your music choices,” Cas sat on top of a picnic bench, eyeing the ice cream truck as though it personally offended him.

It had been a week since Castiel had tracked his older brother down and dragged him headfirst back into the family business. Something had been bothering him since the first day they had begun travelling together in the...Spooky Scoops Ice Cream Truck, but he had avoided broaching the topic due to the tenseness following Kali’s death.

“Gabriel, we need to talk about your music choices,” Cas sat on top of a picnic bench, eyeing the ice cream truck as though it personally offended him.

“Aww, come on Cassie. Don’t pretend you don’t like Ke$ha.”

“I don’t mean inside the car, I mean, “Castiel glanced up at the large speaker in top of the vehicle.

“Ooohhh. What’s the problem with it?”

“I hardly think that playing, uh, “Let the Bodies Hit the Floor” is conducive to business. Or subtlety.”

“Okay, I’ll admit. Maybe not the best choice,” Gabriel tried not to smirk. He hadn’t used the song before Castiel found him, and he had wondered how long the younger man’s pity would cause him to hold his tongue, “What would you suggest?”

“1812 Overture. It has a very nice trumpet solo, and it’s iconic.”

“I’m just going to pretend you never said that.”  
“Your current choice is irresponsible.”

“Give me a better option and maybe I’ll change it.”

Two weeks later, Castiel decided he had had enough. Gabriel turned on the speakers and was granted with an earful of Mary Had a Little Lamb in D minor. Thus started the first Bennett Brothers Prank War in four years.

 


End file.
